Chapter 1
The afternoon heat hung heavy over Ateneo's campus as Maya Chen stepped out of her last class, her backpack slung over one shoulder. At twenty-two, she cut a petite figure against the backdrop of students streaming toward the parking lot—barely five-two, with the delicate, classic chinita features common to old Chinese-Filipino families. Her straight black hair was pulled into a practical ponytail, wisps clinging to her neck in the humidity. Her skin was fair, almost porcelain, a point of pride for her mother. She wore the standard college uniform: fitted white blouse tucked into a navy skirt that hit just above her knees, her small B-cup breasts barely pressing against the fabric, her frame slender but softly curved at the hips. Her monolid eyes, dark and expressive, scanned the parking area with practiced resignation.
She spotted it immediately—the black Mercedes S-Class idling near the gate, too expensive, too conspicuous among the students' cars. Manong Eddie, Tito Robert's driver, stood by the rear door, his weathered face impassive as he caught her eye. Maya's stomach tightened, but she walked over, her footsteps steady on the hot pavement. She could feel a few classmates watching, probably assuming she was being picked up by family. Close enough.
"Good afternoon, Manong," she said softly in Tagalog as he opened the door.
"Good afternoon, iha," he replied, his tone neutral. He'd been doing this for months now. He knew. Everyone knew.
Maya slid into the backseat, the cool air-conditioning a sharp contrast to the sweltering heat outside. Tito Robert was already there, seated on the opposite side, his legs crossed casually. He was in his early fifties, a thick-set Filipino man with salt-and-pepper hair slicked back, wearing an expensive barong tagalog over dark slacks. His face was pleasant, almost fatherly, with deep-set eyes that crinkled when he smiled—which he did now, watching her settle in.
"Maya, anak," he said warmly, though the term of endearment felt weighted. "How was class?"
"Fine po, Tito," she replied, setting her backpack on the floor. The door closed with a soft thunk, sealing them in. Manong Eddie slipped into the driver's seat, started the engine, and pulled into traffic without a word. The privacy screen was already up.
Robert's hand was on her thigh before they even left campus grounds, his thick fingers sliding under the hem of her skirt, tracing the smooth skin of her inner thigh. Maya exhaled slowly, her body tensing reflexively before forcing herself to relax. This was the routine. He leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear. "Namiss kita," he murmured in Tagalog. I missed you.
She didn't respond, just turned her head slightly as his other hand cupped the back of her neck, pulling her into a kiss. His lips were firm, insistent, his tongue pushing past her lips to explore her mouth. She tasted the faint bitterness of coffee, the staleness of tobacco. Her hands rested limply on her lap as he deepened the kiss, his hand sliding higher up her thigh, fingers brushing the edge of her cotton panties—simple, white, nothing fancy. He pulled back, his eyes dark with intent.
"Take them off," he said, his voice low but commanding.
Maya glanced toward the front seat, but the privacy screen was tinted, Manong Eddie's silhouette barely visible. She shifted, lifting her hips slightly to slide her panties down her legs, the fabric catching briefly on her knees before she pulled them free and tucked them into her bag. The leather seat felt cool against her bare skin, her skirt riding up as she adjusted. Robert's hand returned, bolder now, his fingers parting her folds, finding her already slightly damp—her body's traitorous response to the inevitable.
"Good girl," he muttered, his thumb circling her clit with practiced ease. She bit her lip, suppressing a gasp as sensation sparked through her. He unbuckled his belt with his free hand, the sound sharp in the quiet car, and unzipped his slacks. His cock sprang free, thick and half-hard, veins prominent along the shaft. "Come here," he said, patting his lap.
She climbed over, straddling him awkwardly in the confined space, her knees pressing into the leather on either side of his thighs. Her skirt bunched up around her waist, exposing her smooth, bare mound—she kept herself shaved, a preference he'd made clear early on. Robert guided her hips down, his cock pressing against her entrance. She was slick enough that he slid in with one smooth thrust, filling her completely. The stretch was intense, her walls clenching around him, and she let out a small, involuntary whimper.
"Shhh," he whispered, his hands gripping her hips, holding her in place as he adjusted. The car rocked gently as Manong Eddie navigated through EDSA traffic, the honking and chaos of Manila outside a muffled backdrop. Robert began to move her, lifting and lowering her hips in a steady rhythm, his cock hitting deep inside her with each stroke. Her hands braced on his shoulders, her blouse wrinkling under her grip, and she felt her breasts press against his chest with each bounce, her nipples hardening against the fabric.
"You feel so good, Maya," he groaned, his breath hot against her neck. "So tight."
She closed her eyes, her body moving mechanically, chasing the rhythm he set. The car's motion added an erratic element, a bump in the road sending him deeper, making her gasp. Her arousal built despite herself, the friction and fullness sending sparks of unwanted pleasure through her core. She hated how her body responded, the wetness coating his cock, easing his thrusts.
Robert's pace quickened, his grip tightening, his hips thrusting up to meet hers. "I'm close," he grunted. "Gonna fill you up, anak."
The term—anak, child—made her stomach twist, but she said nothing, just nodded, her face buried in his shoulder. With a low groan, he came, his cock pulsing inside her as he released, hot and thick. She felt the warmth spread, his cum flooding her, spilling out slightly as he held her down, making sure every drop stayed inside. Her own orgasm hovered just out of reach, denied, and she exhaled shakily as he finally let her lift off. His cum immediately began to leak out, dripping down her inner thighs, warm and sticky.
"Stay like that," he said, his voice satisfied. She settled back into her seat, her thighs pressed together, feeling the residue pool between her legs, soaking into the leather slightly. She didn't bother wiping it away—what was the point? They were almost at her family's house in BF Homes anyway.
The Mercedes pulled up to the familiar gate, the guard recognizing the car and waving them through without question. The two-story house loomed ahead, its whitewashed walls and red tile roof a picture of suburban respectability. Manong Eddie parked in the driveway, and Robert adjusted his slacks, tucking himself back in and buckling his belt. Maya smoothed her skirt down, though she could still feel his cum leaking out, the dampness clinging to her skin.
Manong Eddie opened the door, his face carefully blank as Maya stepped out first, her legs slightly unsteady. Robert followed, straightening his barong with a contented smile. The front door opened before they reached it, her mother appearing in the doorway—a thin, elegant woman in her late forties, her hair in a neat bun, wearing a floral house dress.
"Tito Robert!" she exclaimed, her smile bright but strained. "Welcome, welcome. Come in, please."
"Salamat, Tita Linda," Robert said warmly, stepping inside. Maya followed, her mother's eyes flicking to her briefly—taking in the slightly flushed cheeks, the wrinkled blouse, the way Maya walked with her thighs pressed together. Her mother's smile didn't falter, but something tightened in her expression before she looked away.
Maya's father emerged from the living room, a shorter man with thinning hair and wire-rimmed glasses, his shirt sleeves rolled up. "Robert! Good to see you, pare," he said, shaking Robert's hand enthusiastically. His eyes slid to Maya for a fraction of a second, then darted away, landing somewhere near her shoes. "Maya, anak, why don't you go freshen up? Dinner will be ready soon."
"Yes, Papa," she murmured, heading toward the stairs. She could feel Robert's cum still leaking out, a thin trickle sliding down her thigh, and she pressed her legs together tighter as she climbed. Behind her, she heard her mother offering Robert a drink, her father laughing too loud at something Robert said. The sound of complicity.
Chapter 2
Maya stood in her bathroom, the door locked, staring at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were still flushed, her lips slightly swollen from Robert's kiss. She lifted her skirt, pulling it up to see the mess—his cum smeared across her inner thighs, some of it dried and crusty, some still wet and sticky. She grabbed a handful of tissue and wiped herself down, the paper coming away streaked with white. It took several wipes before she felt somewhat clean, though the residue clung stubbornly to her skin.
She stripped off her uniform, tossing the blouse and skirt into the hamper—another load of laundry, another stain to pretend didn't exist. She pulled on a loose cotton dress, something modest and comfortable, and splashed water on her face. Downstairs, she could hear the murmur of conversation, her mother's laughter, the clink of glasses. Normal. Respectable.
When she came back down, the dining table was set—her mother's best china, the dishes laid out carefully. Adobo, sinigang, lumpia, rice. Her younger brother, Anton, a gangly sixteen-year-old, was already seated, scrolling through his phone, oblivious. Her father and Robert were in the living room, deep in conversation about business—something about shipping delays and customs.
"Maya, help me bring the food," her mother said, her tone brisk. Maya followed her into the kitchen, picking up a serving dish of adobo. Her mother handed her the sinigang pot, then paused, her hand resting on Maya's arm. "You okay, anak?" she asked quietly, her eyes searching Maya's face.
Maya nodded. "Yes, Ma."
Her mother's lips pressed into a thin line. "Good. Make sure Tito Robert is comfortable tonight, ha? He's been very good to us." The words were gentle, but the meaning was clear. Maya felt something cold settle in her chest, but she just nodded again.
Dinner was a strange performance. Anton complained about his teachers, her father talked business with Robert, her mother fussed over the food, making sure Robert's plate was always full. Maya ate quietly, pushing rice around her plate, hyper-aware of Robert's presence across from her. His foot brushed hers under the table once, deliberate, and she stiffened but didn't pull away.
"Maya's doing well in school, no?" Robert said, glancing at her father.
"Yes, yes, she's very diligent," her father replied, beaming. "We're very proud."
"She's a good girl," Robert said, his eyes locking on Maya's. "Very respectful. Knows the value of utang na loob."
Her mother smiled, a tight, brittle thing. "We raised her well."
Anton, oblivious, asked if he could be excused to play video games. Her mother waved him off, and he disappeared upstairs. The conversation shifted back to business, but as dessert—leche flan—was served, Robert leaned back in his chair, patting his stomach contentedly.
"Ang sarap, Tita Linda," he said. "You always take such good care of me." He glanced at Maya, then at her father. "I think I'm too full to drive back tonight. Maybe I should stay over? If that's okay, of course."
Her father's smile faltered for just a second before recovering. "Of course, pare. You're always welcome. Maya, why don't you make sure the guest room is ready?"
Maya's mother cut in smoothly. "Actually, the guest room's AC is broken. Hasn't been fixed yet." She glanced at Maya, her expression carefully neutral. "Maybe Maya can let Tito Robert use her room? She can sleep on the couch."
The air in the room seemed to thicken. Maya's fingers tightened around her fork, but she kept her face blank. Robert's smile widened slightly. "I don't want to be a bother—"
"No bother at all," her father said quickly. "Maya doesn't mind. Right, anak?"
Maya met her father's eyes. He couldn't hold her gaze, looking away almost immediately. "Yes, Papa," she said quietly. "I don't mind."
"Settled then," her mother said, standing to clear the plates. "Maya, show Tito Robert upstairs when he's ready."
Robert finished his flan slowly, savoring each bite, while Maya sat frozen in her seat. Finally, he pushed back from the table. "I think I'll turn in," he said. "Long day."
"Of course," her father said, standing to shake his hand. "Sleep well, pare."
Maya stood, her legs feeling heavy, and led Robert upstairs. Her room was at the end of the hall, small but tidy—a single bed with a floral comforter, a desk cluttered with textbooks, posters of K-pop idols on the walls. Robert stepped inside, closing the door behind them, and the click of the latch felt final.
He turned to her, his expression softening. "Your family is very kind, Maya," he said. "I hope you know how much I appreciate everything."
She didn't respond, just stood there, her hands clasped in front of her. He stepped closer, his hand cupping her cheek. "You're such a good girl," he murmured, then kissed her, slow and possessive. His hands slid down to the hem of her dress, pulling it up and over her head. She stood in just her bra and panties—simple cotton, nothing special—and he took his time, his eyes roaming over her body.
"Lie down," he said, gesturing to the bed. She obeyed, her body sinking into the familiar mattress. He undressed methodically—barong, slacks, briefs—revealing his body: a slight paunch, graying chest hair, his cock already half-hard. He climbed onto the bed, positioning himself between her legs, and pulled her panties aside.
"Let's make this good, ha?" he said, and she closed her eyes as he pushed inside her, the cycle beginning again.